my sister has an open diary. i can't read it. i'm scared, i think.
my truck is a stick-shift. it takes me where i want to go, the paint is peeling. my mother stuck a jack in the box head on my antena, it's old and i want to rip it off. i bought a plush steering wheel cover. gold. i drove to n's apartment the other day and his car was there, i was afraid to knock on the door. i knocked on the window. we laid for a long time, talked, fought, i left, bought tic-tacs. i came back. he bit my neck, hard, and my neck is still sore. only one mark.
i am returning to what i know and what i trust. we were young, then, we're older now. there is sex,
now.
i wonder what he thinks of it.
i stutter and i breathe funny. those half-sobs that crying people get after they've cried, the uncontrollable ones. i get those randomly. it's frightening. always sad. can't cry voluntarily.
people say that they don't want other people to see them cry. i do. i want people to know that they've hurt me. i want them to know that i am upset, that i can express my sadness to them, i want to share the burden of unshed tears. but i can't. i cry only when i'm alone, where no one can see it, where no one knows. i want people to know, to see. i want a way to communicate my sadness to people, i can't, i just fucking come here and type and think that maybe someone will read it and maybe it'll mean something. maybe someone else knows what it is like to be young, ashamed, afraid. maybe someone else knows what it is like not to know yourself. i don't know
myself,
and it scares the shit out of me. i hurt t. i am abusive. that's what i do. and i fucking like it. fuck you. fuck you for reading this, you have become an accomplise, you are witness to this crime, and there's no backing out now. that's right, you. there is no getting out. you know what it's like to be afraid. you know what it's like not to know yourself, know anyone, know what you're going to do next. you know. you know the joy you get, secretly, inside, when you have hurt someone in their softest parts. you know the joys of manipulation.
i have imparted this to you, asshole. do something with it. fucking do something
- there is a knife in my throat @ your throat . com
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